Special Operations
by Carovinee
Summary: A one-shot for every SpecOp. Ratings in the chapters.
1. The Pit

**A**/**N**: I fucking love plot bunnies! Really, I do.

This came to me while I was playing SpecOps with my brother. In the Spec Ops, you just spawn out of nowhere in all these different places, some based off levels, and some just random. I think I can stick a plot into the Ops. Enjoy, and please review!

Special Operations: The Pit

**Pvt. Mark Pierce:**

**Fire Base Phoenix, Afghanistan**

Ever since our formation, we Rangers have considered ourselves to be a very elite, powerful unit. We are deadly, accurate, and our forces will always lead the way. None of us ever doubted it, until the day that the Task Force 141 paid us a visit.

From the moment their Pave Lows touched down, I knew that we weren't dealing with a normal military unit. Everything from their clothes to their weapons were clearly out of the ordinary. From my position, I was able to distinguish the many different flag patches on their mismatched uniforms, and the international variety of weapons slung across their shoulders. After a quick glance at their surroundings, the Task Force made their way to a small set of barracks towards the northern edge of the base. A few members of the team broke off from the group, and jogged over to the command building. Although I was curious, the sound of the mess bell took my mind off them, and I joined the mass of eager privates rushing to be first in line for today's supper.

I was awoken the next day by my buddy, Private Allen.

"Dude, the Task Force is running the Pit! Holy shit, you've gotta see this. Get up!" he shouted, shaking my shoulder roughly. I leapt out of bed, quickly lacing my boots and throwing on a white t-shirt and tan combat pants. Allen ran from my barrack, and I followed, jogging over to the observation area. From where we stood, I could see them lined up in the "armoury", as one of their men sprinted through the last part of the course. As he neared the end, he pulled a knife from his belt and threw it into the last target. A buzzer sounded as he cleared the finish.

"22.35 seconds. Nice work, dude." shouted Corporal Dunn, the guy in charge of the Pit.

"Good job, Meat. Alright, who's next?" called another man, likely the CO.

"I'll go, sir."

A third man stepped forward, snatching an M1911 off of the table. He looked up at observation, and my jaw dropped in surprise. His face was covered by a dark skeleton mask and blood-red sunglasses. Dunn pushed a few buttons on the wall, resetting the course for him.

"Good luck, Ghost." he said, opening the gate. As the gate swung open, the man called Ghost lunged forward. Withing seconds, he had cleared his way to the building.

"Holy shit!" I heard Allen call next to me. Truth is, I was amazed at how fast he was going with just an M1911. Barely any time passed, and he dashed across the finish, coming to a rest against one of the gated walls.

"18.28 seconds." reported Dunn. "Shit, that was fucking amazing!"

Ghost nodded, turning his gaze to the CO.

"Your turn, Mactavish." he said, crossing his arms over his chest. The rest of the men whooped in excitement as their CO loaded a UMP45. As the gate opened, he stepped into the course, unleashing a precise storm of bullets into the metal targets. Even faster that Ghost, he made his way into the building. All us Rangers watched in silence, simply flabbergasted at how fast these guys were. Within seconds, he was shooting down the last of the targets, and bounding over the finish.

"Shit, 18.26 seconds!" called Dunn. Around them, the rest of the 141 shouted and cheered.

"Beat you again, eh?" said Mactavish to Ghost, a teasing tone taking over his strong Scottish accent. Ghost leaned in, throwing his CO a light punch.

"Bollocks! With all due respect, sir, I was using an M1911. I think I did pretty damn good." he replied in an equally strong British accent. The men laughed, walking up the stairs and back to their barracks. Beside me, Allen was cursing.

"Shit, man. They made us look like we were moving in freaking slow motion. What's Shepherd going to think of our unit now, beaten by a bunch of primadonnas."

I laughed, pushing him aside as I climbed back down.

"Hey Dunn!" I called, jogging over to the Pit. "Fancy giving me a shot at the Pit?" My buddies froze behind me. Dunn laughed, motioning me into the Pit.

"Go for it, dude!" he chuckled. I grabbed a SCAR-H and an M9, and waited for Dunn to reset the course. As the gate opened, I heard Allen and a few other guys yelling at me.

"Go!" shouted Dunn. I jumped forward, carefully taking down three targets positioned behind concrete walls. I moved forward, taking out two more targets. The building loomed into sight, and I crouched, not wanting to waste ammo. I cleared the roof and windows, dashing into the building. Three more targets presented themselves, and were quickly taken down. Reaching for my knife, I climbed the stairs. A target swung out, only to be cut down with my combat knife. Once the roof was clear, I launched myself over the edge, trying to take out as many targets as I could from the air. A light click reached my ears, and I cursed, realizing the foolishness of my mistake. Quickly grabbing my M9, I tried to move along, but the pistol was harder to aim, and I wasted precious seconds trying to line up the targets. The finish came into view, and I sprinted through, shooting wildly at the last two targets. With an almost savage yell, I slid over the line, sliding to a halt against the wall. I heard Dunn laughing as I stood, demanding my score.

"33 seconds, man. Not bad." he said, leaning against the wall and laughing. I could hear my buddies laughing and cheering as I threw my weapons aside. Allen jogged over, a reasonably calm look on his face.

"You did good, dude. The 141 just did way better." he said, fighting back a laugh.

"Fuck you, Allen."

**Another A**/**N**: Review, please?


	2. Sniper Fi

**A/N**: Thanks to **Episodic Writer**, **Sassy Satsuma**, **Apples Who Dance With Oranges**, **Reeserella**, **TangoOscar**, and **OnceMoreImFalling **for their reviews! Enjoy the chapter!

Also, I'm really sorry to anyone who's reading _Fire._ I'm working on it, I promise, but it's taking some time. I'll have the new chapter soon, I hope.

Rated T for language, killing, and such.

Special Operations: Sniper Fi

**Sergeant Caleb "Neptune" Elliot:**

**Petropavlovsk, Russia**

When Captain Mactavish had us dropped on the wrong side of the Russian sub base, I figured we'd be useless. "Sniper support", he called us. I didn't think we'd even get a shot at the enemy. Of course, I was wrong.

A powerful explosion rocked the surrounding area, startling me out of my impatient stupor. Judging by the size and speed of the blast, someone had called in an AGM. Wincing slightly, I pictured the flood of enemies that would be swarming this area, desperate to protect their submarine, and kill the men who threatened it, us included.

When the alarms started screaming, I knew it was time to act. I turned on my radio, and quickly signalled Corporal Aidan "Coffin" Freedman, my partner.

"Coffin! Grab the claymores and set them up around our position! Double time it, go!" He jumped up from beside me, snatched up a pile of claymores, and began rigging them around our sniping spot. We were positioned on top of a small hangar building, a spot that gave us a clear view of the entrances to the compound. Judging by the giant metal vehicles swarming the other side of the base, I knew most of the troops were attacking Ghost and his team. Briefly, I contemplated moving closer to the main battlefield. The sudden arrival of a jeep, carrying five enemies, stopped that thought in its tracks. The vehicle slowed, its passengers climbing out, and beginning a slow, tightly-packed patrol of the area.

"Okay, Coffin. Let's make this quick. We don't need our cover blown." I whispered, bringing the sight of my Barret .50 Cal up to my eye. Beside me, I heard Coffin do the same. Carefully, we lined up our targets, and with five quick shots, we finished off the patrol.

I flinched slightly as my radio crackled.

"Neptune, you have 10 plus foot-mobiles approaching your position. I repeat, 10 plus foot mobiles." came Mactavish's voice.

"Copy that. What's the status of our Predator Missiles, sir?" I asked.

"Give me five minutes, I'll have them ready." he replied.

Bullets pattered against the railing surrounding the roof, as the enemy fired up at us.

"Coffin, get to work! We gotta keep these guys away from Ghost and the team!" I shouted, lobbing a frag grenade over the railing. Sharp cries filled the air, and I knew my grenade had done its job. Keeping behind cover, Coffin and I managed to finish off the tangos before they could get too close.

"Neptune, the UAV is ready." called Mactavish.

"Copy that! Thanks a bunch, sir." I replied. I heard Mactavish chuckling as I passed the controls to Coffin.

"Take out any vehicles that you see. Don't fucking miss, these things take awhile to re-load." I ordered.

"Yes sir!" he called, opening up the laptop.

"Okay, we've got a transport truck coming in, along with 15 foot-mobiles. Firing missile!"

A Predator Missile shot through the sky, striking a target 500 metres north of us. I heard Coffin laugh as a ball of fire burst up into the air.

"10-plus KIA. Good hit, Coffin." came Mactavish's praising voice.

"Nice shot. Now, about those foot-mobiles?" I asked, fighting back a smile.

"Five of 'em survived the blast. They're approaching from the north." he reported, putting the laptop aside and raising his rifle.

A few quick shots later, and the compound was clear for the third time.

"Ghost, how 'bout an update?" I said, switching my mic on.

"We've almost reached the sub. I want you and Coffin to move northwest, over to the guardhouse. We'll need the cover when we get to the sub. These bloody bastards really don't want us near that sub!" shouted Ghost. The sound of his voice was slightly muffled by gunfire.

"You heard him, Coffin. Get moving!" I ordered. Together, we slung our rifles over our shoulders and bolted down the stairs. Quickly searching, we managed to scavenge two AK-47s off the dead bodies. Coffin took point, and we ran for the guardhouse, just as Ghost and his team came into sight.

"Nice to see you, Neptune!" shouted Ghost.

"Likewise, sir!" I called back. One of the figures, who I presumed to be Captain Price, sprinted over the dock and into the sub.

"Alright, I'm inside the sub! Cover me, I need a few minutes!" he ordered, through the mic. I re-loaded my Barret and took aim at the dock, where several enemies were swarming, trying to get into the sub.

"Coffin, you and Roach work with the UAVs. Neptune and I'll cover the dock." ordered Ghost. Coming up next to me, Ghost aimed a Dragunov and began sniping the Russians with perfect accuracy. I followed suit, and together we cleared the dock. The sound of motors reached our ears, and Ghost turned, trying to find the source.

"Incoming! Two trucks to the east!" said Coffin.

"I'm on it!" Roach called, typing on the laptop. Within seconds, another missile streaked to Earth, obliterating the two trucks.

"Shit, more vehicles to the east!" shouted Ghost. "Use the UAV!"

"I can't! It's not responding!" Coffin screamed, frantically typing.

"Soap, what the hell's wrong with our Predator?" asked Ghost. A large, dark puff of smoke appeared above us, and then we knew.

"Fuck, it's been shot down." cursed Roach.

"RPGs?" asked Coffin, turning to me.

"RPGs." I nodded. He jumped down the stairs with nothing but a quick call of "Cover me!", and came back a few seconds later with an RPG clutched in his hands.

"It wasn't hard to find. The bloody things are everywhere." he said, smiling as he took aim at the vehicles. As the Russians un-loaded from the trucks, the rocket struck, blasting apart the transports, and the men that once occupied them. Roach and Coffin cheered, and once again I had to push back a smile.

"Contact to the north, on the dock, next to the sub!" said Ghost, cutting through the cheers. The four of us focused our fire on the dock, and with a few quick snipes and an RPG shot, the dock was cleared.

And then Price sent Hell flying to the United States.

**Another A**/**N**: Goodbye Writer's Block, I won't be missing you! I hope the door breaks your arse on the way out! Reviews, please?


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